


Late night visit

by pomidor



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slash, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomidor/pseuds/pomidor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal visits Will in jail and leaves a little reminder. Hannigram (ships it like crazy).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late night visit

Will feels more then hears the heavy presence in the dark cell. He can't say he expected it, but he didn't dismiss the possibility either. 

“A bit late for a visit, isn't it, Dr. Lecter?” he tries to put as much venom into the name as humanly possible.

There is no answer and Will waits, with his hands atop his lap, for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

“You have trouble sleeping, Will?” Hannibal asks him in his normal tone, reserved for their sessions. Will can swear he sees his head tilt a little to the side as he stares at him with that inhuman look a scientist would give a rat he gave a poison and is checking the effects. Only, a scientist would not go into his rat's cage. But a hungry cat would.

“What. Are. You. Doing. In. my. Cell.” he demands putting his chin forward. “Where are the guards?”

He doesn't want to admit it, but Hannibal pokes something inside of him. A primal fear, because he can see. Will can see what the man thought about when he was staring at a helpless deer like him. 

“They will not interrupt us.” Hannibal's tone was still leveled.

“Are they steaks now?” Will whispered, but he could as well have shouted in this deadly silence. 

Hannibal looked at him approvingly with a little smile. 'Sense of humor' Will thought. An important thing when you look for a friend. 

“You paid them.” Will realized with one look.

“Every man has his price.” Hannibal answered with his strange accent that was drawing the listener nearer.

“Why?”

His former friend slowly moved closer and Will's hands trembled. He doubted that Hannibal came here to kill him. No, he was too curious what Will would do.

“You look horrible, Will. Have you been eating at all?” his tone was friendly, a nice sound he offered while having his friends for dinner. “I imagine jail food must taste awful. That's why I brought something for you.” He put a plastic container, the same one Will saw the first time he visited him, on the small metal table. The implications made him want to throw up.

“Why are you here” Will hissed. He will not bear this man's company any longer.

Hannibal came forward and stood right before him, so Will had to look up from his position on the bed. He felt like he was at the mercy of the cannibal. Looking into Hannibal's dark eyes he saw that it were not thoughts of eating him that passed the clever psychopath's mind. At least not in that way. The realization made his head swirl, because it was possible. Hannibal could have coaxed him into anything while he was desperately reaching for help.

Hannibal extended his hand. Will saw a round shape, most probably a marker.

“I want you to draw me a clock.”

Will found he couldn't break eye contact. He normally avoided it, but this abomination was putting him through a test. He knew those eyes so well, and yet they seemed to belong to a different person then the one he trusted, the one that he even considered fascinating. 

“There is no paper, Dr. Lecter.” he tried to sound strong.

“Draw one on the wall.”

Hannibal didn't bring any weapon. Of course he didn't. That man's body was a weapon in itself. There was a slight chance of Will over-powering him, if it was by surprise. He jumped as quickly as he could and tried to grab his enemy by the throat. Suddenly, with a power and speed that wasn't considered human he was pinned face-first into the wall.

“You're being rude, Will. Is that any way to treat a guest?” his tone was so normal, so familiar that Will felt disgusted.

“I won't draw you any damn clocks!” 

After that sentence his face was pushed even further into the wall. Hannibal had a very secure and painful hold on his wrists behind his back. Will felt the body closing in on him, until there wasn't any space between his back and the bigger man's chest. Hannibal leaned down to his ear, nuzzling it lightly (and creepily) with his nose. Then the ex-profiler felt dry lips very close, almost kissing the side of his face. 

“You will.” he whispered with a certain sweetness only reminiscing lovers shared.

Will was starting to get feverish. Even the smallest touch send an electric bolt through his body.

“What is wrong with my clocks?” he asked through his teeth. Sweat gathered over his upper lip and he licked it off. That action alone pushed him further into a mind that was not his own anymore. “Alana looked at me like something was off when I drew her one.”

“Your clocks are beautiful, Will.” his mouth was still close to the dark curls.

“I will not draw for you.”

He felt the pressure on his wrists tighten, almost breaking the bones.

“Thank you for your suggestion, Will. Indeed, I had not visited Alana in a while. And I didn't feed your dogs properly.”

Will took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Arguing with a madman was pointless.

“Give me the marker and move away.”

It wasn't bright enough to do an ideal clock, but Will figured it looked sufficient. He gave the marker back to it's owner. Hannibal progressed to the exit, but Will's words stopped him.

“You gave me food.” He noticed idly. His fever didn't seem to go down.

Hannibal inclined his head slightly in the others direction to show he was listening. 

“You're lonely. Don't have anyone to show your skills and frame for murder? That's why you came here. You... miss me.”

Will walked in the ripper's direction, with his gaze blurring. He almost collapsed but then caught Hannibal like a solid anchor. He clang to his back in a corrupted version of a hug.

“Take me with you.” He whispered hotly.

Hannibal didn't bulge. He turned around slowly catching Will's cheek in his palm. As the older man's face drew nearer Will closed his eyes.

When he opened them he was laying in the hard jail bed, covered in sweat. He rose up to his feet quickly. He looked for any traces of Hannibal. The food container was gone.

The wall however was embellished with, what for Will looked like a completely normal, drawn clock and an inscription underneath in neat bloody letters 'This is my design'.


End file.
